BPRD: Abominable
by Number None
Summary: The BPRD, consisting of Liz, Abe, Roger, and Johann, are sent to an isolated Alaskan community threatened by what may be an abominable snowman. A tale of werewolf hicks, yetis, and freaks among freaks. Comic-based, set after The Dead story arc.
1. Welcome to Oboroten

**1: Welcome to Oboroten**

"_This_ is Main Street?" snorted Liz Sherman, peering out of the window of a large, all-terrain vehicle. The dirt road ahead of them wove between two tiny buildings. One bore the sign "Oboroten Post Office", the other, "General Store".

"Well, the town's a little hard to get to, Liz. The mountains we just came through were difficult to manage, and this is summer. Most of the year they would be completely impassable," said Abraham Sapien

"Some summer," muttered Liz, pulling her coat tighter about her. The valley looked green and inviting but the temperature outside still hovered around the low 40s. "You're quiet, Johann. Picking up on anything?"

An ectoplasm-filled containment suit laced its gloved fingers together. A German-accented voice emanated from the suit's bubble-like head, "_Nein_. There are many conflicting signals, producing a vague din. It is… confusing."

Roger the homunculus simply stared at the unfamiliar scenery with rapt, child-like enthusiasm. "Look!" he declared, pointing a muddy finger at a particular tree, "A bird!"

Liz squinted and picked out the white head and cynical yellow gaze of a bald eagle among the greenery. "Neat, Roger," she said, flashing him a genuine smile. The homunculus' unabashed enthusiasm for life often led him to observations the more jaded agents missed.

Phil, their military-appointed driver, stopped the van and rubbed his blonde buzz cut. "We're here. You guys mind if I go have a smoke while you talk to whatshisname?"

"No problem," said Liz, her own nicotine-stained fingers twitching for a cigarette after the long van ride. The special agents of the B.P.R.D. emerged from the sliding doors of the van and stretched in the sunlight. They stood in front of a modest log cabin set a little ways back into the woods. Next to the door was a tarnished brass plaque stating: Town Hall.

They stared at the structure incredulously for a bit before Abe stepped forward and knocked on the door. The door was flung open almost immediately by a large, bearded man in a flannel shirt.

Piercing green eyes glared at them from under bristling grey brows. "You from the Bureau?" he growled. He paused for a moment and gave them a second going-over, taking in the fish-man, the homunculus, and the walking containment suit. "Ah," he said, scratching his grizzled beard, "Well, I guess you must be. Sorry 'bout that. Come on in."

The Town Hall seemed to double as a home. In addition to a very old desk it contained a small bed, a sink, and a wood-burning stove. The large man reached out a hairy hand to Abe, who he seemed to immediately size up as the leader. "John Vilkolakis, pleasure to meetcha, mister…?"

"Abe Sapien," said Abe, completing the handshake with his own webbed, blue-green hand, "And these are my associates Liz Sherman, Johann Kraus, and Roger."

The large man nodded, completely unfazed by the group's strange appearance. "Please, sit yerselves down," he said, motioning to some mismatched chairs, "Ya want some coffee?"

Roger raised his hand eagerly, and Vilkolakis poured him a cup from a tin kettle bubbling on top of the wood stove. The bearded man then leaned back against the desk and took a sip from his own cup.

"I suppose we should get down to business. I asked you here because a monster has been killing my people."

"You're sure this is a monster?" asked Abe, pursing his blue lips, "There are a lot of large predators in this area. Grizzly bears, in particular, often develop a taste for human flesh."

Vilkolakis then did a surprising thing. He began to laugh. Deep, uncontrollable guffaws rumbled from his chest. He slapped his knees, took a few deep breaths and wiped small tears from the corners of his green eyes. "A grizzly? Kill one of _my_ people? We're a little harder to kill then _that."_

Abe sat bolt upright in his chair. "Oboroten, Vilkolakis… I _thought_ that those names sounded familiar. You're werewolves."

Vilkolakis nodded mildly. "Myep. We came over here from Europe in the sixteenth century. Wasn't really much room over there for werewolves to run around any more; certain loners were getting desperate, killing livestock, sometimes humans. Things were getting dangerous. So we left. Here we got plenty of room."

Liz was holding a small ball of fire in the palm of her hand and watching the shaggy man warily. He stared at her, looking somewhat offended.

"Could you put that away, miss? You fellows should know, just 'cause someone's a little different don't make 'em monsters. All the packs alive today is civilized now. We have to be, otherwise we would've been wiped out. We're in control of our shifts most of the time. No more rampages, just a pack hunt during the moon-shift to work off a little of that extra energy."

"Aha," said Johann, "This explains the odd signals. Vervulfs."

"So there's something out there killing _lycanthropes_?" cried Liz, pointing out of a narrow window at the dark trees. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Killing _and_ eating, miss. After the last full moon hunt two weeks ago we noticed that three of our own were missing. That's not so unusual. Sometimes people get a little carried away and get separated from the group. They always make their way back to town. But these one's didn't. We sent some people out to look for them. All they found were some gnawed bones and discarded intestines."

The man paused and stared down at his coffee for a somber moment. "There's a human town about a hundred miles away. And if this thing managed to kill three of _us_, I hate to think of what it'll do to them."

Abe stood up purposefully. "Don't worry, Mr. Vilkolakis, we'll take care of the problem. Let's go guys; we don't know how much time we have."

The team stood and began to leave. "Wait!" barked Vilkolakis suddenly, "I don't know how much firepower you guys got, but I do know one thing: you don't know the area. I'd like to send one of my people with you to help track this thing down. Consider it a token of appreciation."

"I'm not sure if that's really necessary," began Abe irritably. Liz gave him a warning look. He paused.

"I ain't _asking_," growled Vilkolakis, "This thing _killed_ three of ours and one of us is gonna be there when _it's_ killed."

Abe clenched and unclenched his fists, drew a calming breath. "Fine," he conceded.

The lycanthrope's menacing manner immediately dissipated. He fished a crumpled piece of paper out of a desk drawer and scribbled an address on it.

"This is Mrs. Faoladh's place a little down the road. Go there and ask for Mutt. She don't always remember her place, but she's the best damn tracker we got. Good luck."

The team descended the cabin steps and made their way back to the van. "Good luck hunting down something that thinks werewolves make a nice midnight snack? We'll need it," muttered Liz.

_**Author's note:**__I have, at the moment, read all of the Hellboy TPBs. When I started writing this, I had only read B.P.R.D. through the Black Flame arc. Now I'm caught up through Garden of Souls.  
_

_I'm trying to write this story as a one-shot mission in the theme of Dark Water and There's Something Under My Bed. This means a lot of exposition and random local people characters. You've been warned._

_These werewolves, obviously, are very different from the cursed werewolves/ghosts of The Wolves of St. August. They are naturally occurring werewolves in the line of selkies and other shapeshifters, not cursed humans. Why werewolves? Because werewolves are awesome._

_A few, completely respectful questions. Why are there so many movieverse fics in the Hellboy __comics__ section? Why is there not a Hellboy __movie__ section? Get it together, FF. Also, if you haven't read the comics, go do so. NOW. Not only are they the best mainstream comic series out there at the moment, but this fic is based on the __comics__. The movie was fine, but it really doesn't compare to the comics.  
_


	2. Mixed Breed

**2: Mixed Breed**

Liz, Abe, Roger, and Johann again found themselves at the door of a cabin. This one was much smaller than John Vilkolakis', however, and seemed to be of considerably shoddier quality. The foundation was made of cinderblocks and the roof appeared to be collapsing slowly in on itself.

"_Gott_," muttered Johann, shaking his plastic head. Negative essence pulsed about the property. It was more domestic than occult in nature, the lingering energy of old fights and simmering resentment. Liz, by a silent consensus, was the one to knock on the door.

It opened, after repeated knocks, to reveal a heavyset, middle-aged redheaded woman. A pale, pimply teenage boy hovered behind her, staring slack-jawed at the visitors.

"What do _you_ want?" sneered the woman.

"Mrs. Faoladh? B.P.R.D." The woman gave one slow, suspicious nod. "We're looking for an, er, 'Mutt'."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Don't know what you'd want her for." Gears turned slowly in her head and she grinned suddenly with malicious glee. "She's in trouble, ain't she? I always _said_ that girl was bound to end up poorly. Bad blood, you know." She walked around the side of the house in her dingy house slippers and bellowed, "MUTT, YOU LAZY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING WHELP, GET OUT HERE!"

Liz, curious, peered around the side of the house. A tiny, rusting silver trailer sat in a weed-choked clearing that approximated the cabin's backyard. The sides of the dwelling rattled rhythmically with a low bass line.

"MUTT!" howled the woman. The trailer stopped shaking and the flimsy metal door slammed open, putting another dent in the battered metal. A small, sullen figure, clad in a worn, oversized black t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, leapt onto the ground. The entity slouched over and stared warily at the woman, ignoring the B.P.R.D. entirely.

Johann shifted uncomfortably. The air practically crackled with negative energy.

"People here to see you," growled Mrs. Faoladh, yellowing, sharp teeth still bared in a threatening smile. She turned and went back into her derelict home, shutting the door behind her. There was a soft click of a lock.

Mutt turned to the B.P.R.D. She was a small-framed young woman with pronounced Eastern European features and a shock of short, unruly, brown hair that looked like it had been cut by the mentally impaired with a pair of blunt pruning shears. Her eyes were large and yellow, framed by impressively thick eyebrows and rimmed with dark circles. She appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties, but her face had a hungry, feral quality to it that made it seem far older.

Her large nostrils twitched. "Hello," the girl said finally, "There a problem?"

"B.R.P.D.," said Abe professionally, flashing an ID badge.

The girl flinched visibly, and her upper lip curled up over coffee-stained teeth. "Am I in trouble?"

"You're not in trouble," assured Liz, stepping forward. "We were told that you could help as track a dangerous creature that's been reported in this area."

Mutt brightened immediately and for the first time a quick smile flickered across her saturnine features. "I can do that. I suppose you'll want to see the remains of the last attack first."

"That would be very helpful," chimed Johann. The ragged girl stared at him quizzically for a moment, bushy eyebrows knitted together, Roman nose twitching. It was hard to pick up a scent from a rubber suit.

"Back to the van, then?" Liz asked Abe, thinking longingly of the pack of cigarettes stashed in her backpack.

"Van can't fit between trees," said Mutt matter-of-factly, "We'll have to go on foot, maybe spend a night or two in the woods. I hope you came prepared for camping."

A half an hour later they were plodding down Main Street, laden with supplies. Mutt was carrying a pack that looked far too big for her scrawny frame. "I'm tougher than I look," she had insisted, flashing a nervous wince of a smile.

They were shadowed by two teenage boys, one the same pale, pimply child they had seen hovering inside the Faoladh house. The boys were drinking cheap beer and muttering to each other, occasionally snickering in a distinctly unfriendly way.

The darker boy drained his beer and crumpled the can against his forehead. "Half-breed bitch," he jeered. His companion laughed.

Mutt began to growl softly, an involuntary rumble rising from her throat. She looked very purposefully at the ground.

The dark-haired boy expertly lobbed the crushed beer can through the air. It hit the back of Mutt's skull with a painful, tinny sound. She simply drew her head down between her shoulders and slouched farther forward, plodding along unabated in a strange posture that was both defeated and defiant.

"That boy just hit you in the head with a can," said Roger, in case perhaps she hadn't noticed.

"Yeah," twitched Mutt, "That happens sometimes."

"Why?" asked Roger, utterly bewildered.

"Listen…" The girl paused, sniffed pointedly in his direction. "Hm. Mud. Blood. Lightening. Golem?"

"Homunculus," corrected Johann.

"Listen, homunculus," continued Mutt, "I'm the pack omega. The lowest of the low. The town scapegoat. The thing that everyone takes out their insecurity and aggression on so that they stay a nice little unified group. I serve a very important social purpose. That's just the way things work around here."

They reached the end of Main Street and started into the woods. The heckling boys stopped dead at the end of the road, as if an invisible fence was there, but continued to call crude comments after the group's receding backs.

They walked in silence for a while, following the girl's convoluted path. Every so often she would pause and crouch down to sniff the ground.

"Why you?" asked Abe suddenly.

Mutt rose from her crouch, large nostrils still trembling, and stared at him. "What?"

"Why are _you_ the town scapegoat?" repeated Abe, eyeing her cynically. "What makes you different from all the other rural werewolves skulking around back there?"

The girl chuckled bitterly and ran a hair through her dull, mousy hair. "It has to do with blood. My mother, Janus Garou, was good pack woman, very well-respected. But my father was a traveling salesman from Anchorage. Not werekin, a human. So that makes me a "mutt". My mom used to protect me from the worst of this stupid 'half-breed' shit, but a couple years ago she went and got herself decapitated in a freak trucking accident. I've been living with the Faoladhs since then. The pack doesn't abandon one of their own, even if they're a mutt like me. And I'm just as much of a werewolf as any of them, if that's what you're worried about…" She trailed off and looked at the ground, shuffling her feet.

"What's your real name?" asked Liz after a long silence.

"Sylvia Garou," said Sylvia Garou, "But you can just keep calling me Mutt. I'm used to it, and it doesn't mean the same thing when you say it."

The girl paused and chewed on her chapped lower lip, looking uncomfortable, then continued to scamper and snuffle through the trees so frenetically that it was difficult for the rest of the group to keep up.

After an hour or so they emerged in a small clearing. Mutt froze, eyes wide and nostrils flared, and pointed a sallow finger at the base of a particularly large pine tree. "There," she said quietly, "There they are."

Around the base of the tree were scattered a variety of bones. Not old enough to have been bleached by the sun, their sickly shade of organic yellow stood out against the brown pine needles littering the ground. Scattered amongst the bones were gobs of an unidentifiable substance, sticky and buzzing with fat black flies. A shudder ran along the length of the girl's slumped spine.

Abe walked around, studying the clearing. Liz sat down heavily on her backpack and lit a cigarette with her fingers, looking rather ill. Johann, meanwhile, walked over to the bones and rotting entrails. He picked up what was once a skull. A large portion of the identifiably human skull was missing, as if it had been crushed against a rock so that something could lap out the brains inside.

"They would have been shifted to fight it," said Mutt, suddenly popping up besides him, "But we change back when we die."

The plastic bubble head turned to the girl, as if startled by her presence. She flinched and drew back a little, muttering an automatic "Sorry."

"It is all right, _liebschien_," said Johann, "Could you tell me their names?"

"Everett. Billy. Joe."

Johann waved his gloved hands above the scattered bones. Viscous light drifted from the tips of his fingers and swirled over the remains. The light shivered and then formed itself into three distinct shapes. They were three large, hairy men wearing various combinations of flannel and denim.

"Hello," said Roger, and waved.

"Sheeeeit," whistled Everett, staring at his ectoplasmic form, "I guess we _is_ dead."

"Gentlemen, could you tell me please what happened to you?" asked Johann. Abe wandered back from the perimeter of the clearing and watched the exchange with interest. Liz remained cross-legged on her backpack, observing the figures through a cloud of smoke.

Evertt began to speak, but was shushed by one of this companions.

"Watchoo telling some foreigner about this for, Everett? This is _kin_ business," growled Joe, giving Everett an insubstantial, ghostly smack.

Mutt shifted and cleared her throat. "_I'm_ here," she mumbled. The spirits turned their attention to her.

"They sent _Mutt_ to avenge us?" cried Joe, "What was John-boy thinking?"

"She _is_ a good tracker," reminded Billy quietly.

"They probably sent her because nobody'll miss her if she gets ate. She's a stinking half-breed brat," snarled Joe

Everett seemed to have an epiphany. "Well, that makes her half kin, don't it, Joe? That's good enough for me."

Joe gnashed his teeth. "All right. All right. Go ahead, Everett."

Everett drifted a little closer to Mutt, casting suspicious glances at Johann, Roger, and Abe. "Some company you're keeping, eh, Mutt? Anyway, so we was chasing a six-point buck during the last moon run. Suddenly we hear this terrible screeching. Made our blood run cold, and you know us, we ain't scared of much. Then, out of the trees, jumps a giant white monster." He paused for dramatic effect. "_Bigfoot_."

"That weren't Bigfoot! Bigfoot's got brown fur, not white. It was an abominable snowman," interrupted Joe.

"A yeti," added Billy.

"Who's telling the story here?" snarled Everett. The other two quieted down.

"Now, this thing was looking at us like we were looking at that buck. It charged, and we tried to get at its throat but that damn fur was too thick to get a hold of anything through. After that, I don't remember much. It sure as hell didn't have any silver on it, so it must've torn our heads clean off."

Abe recalled that the best ways to kill a werewolf were with silver weaponry, decapitation, or both.

"And that's about it, I suppose," finished Everett, "So I guess we'll be going now."

"Bye, Mutt," mumbled Billy.

"See you soon enough, halfie," sneered Joe.

"Do good, Muttsy," said Everett, and the three faded back into nothingness.

_**Author's Note:**__In case you haven't noticed, all the townsfolk's last names mean "werewolf" in various languages. Thanks, Wikipedia! _

_Mutt sort of looks like a horrible, horrible love child between Frida Khalo and Franz Kafka. She's also a one-shot local character (though she's the most prominently featured one-shot local character) and will NOT join the B.P.R.D. or get sexy makesouts from Abe/Roger/Liz/Johann(can he even give sexy makoouts?)/Hellboy/Kate/Manning[insert canon character of your choice here. That sort of thing is all well and good, but there's enough of it floating around already._

_The full draft of the story is complete at the moment, so I'm in the process of editing and refining the draft chapter by chapter and uploading the results to It's a total of five chapters long. Hopefully I'll post new chapters about once a week._

_To those who read the comics: The first few issues of the new B.P.R.D. arc, Killing Ground, are out. It looks like it's going to be a verrry interesting arc. If you're caught up with the comics you should check it out. I'm also really enjoying Hellboy: Darkness Falls. Lots of interesting Russian folklore._

_Many thanks to all those who reviewed! Your comments were very helpful. I'll try to quickly address them._

_Sapienlover: Yeah, I set this immediately after the events of "The Dead" BPRD arc so Abe is very much going through his "boohoo identity crisis" phase here. Johann's one of my favorite BPRD/Hellboy characters. He doesn't get included in many fanfics because he was a) never part of the original Hellboy comic series and b) hasn't been featured in the movie yet, but I'm quite fond of him. So here he is!_

_VictorianCaul: I'm trying to distinguish these werewolves by paying attention to the sort of community that they've built for themselves. I'm attempting to make it a hybrid of human and wolf society; superficially human, but very much organized according to a "pack" hierarchy. Hopefully it'll end up being interesting. I love your username, by the way. And I miss Roger too…_

_Epalladino: I don't have any problem with Movieverse fics (I've certainly read a lot of them), I jus thingt that it would make better organizational sense if separated wildly disparate comics-movies into different sections. It just makes it easier to find fics according to their continuity. Thanks for explaining current organization system to me though, I never really understood it._

_Avogadro522: Thanks! I left Ben out because at the current time this story is set he hadn't really started doing field work with the B.P.R.D. yet. I'm thinking of including him in a future B.P.R.D. story, though…_

_Ember Koramin: Thank you. Also, yay, comics!_


	3. Into the Woods

**3: Into the Woods**

_**Authors Note: **_ _This chapter contains spoilers for the B.P.R.D.'s The Dead story arc. If you have not yet read The Dead and don't want to know anything about Abe's backstory, then you should skip this chapter._

After they set up camp in a clearing sufficiently far enough from the final resting place of Billy, Everett, and Joe for comfort, Mutt slunk off into the woods for about an hour. She returned carrying a brace of dead rabbits. The creatures' necks had been quickly, cleanly broken, as if by snapping jaws. The girl pulled a small knife from the waistband of her jeans and began to skin and dress the conies. Johann watched her pull out a trembling red liver and unabashedly eat it like a piece of candy. The essence of the girl had appeared to brighten the farther they got from the town of Oboroten

Roger crouched down besides her and watched the process with interest. After a while the girl shyly offered him another knife, and the two odd creatures sat preparing the rabbits and placing them on a spit over the fire, thoroughly absorbed in their work.

Meanwhile, Liz leaned against a tree just outside of the ring of firelight, smoking a cigarette.

"So, Abe, what do you think?" she asked.

Abe Sapien ceased his contemplation of the night sky and turned to his friend. "About the kid?"

"I'm not sure how much of a kid she is," said Liz, "Shifting into a completely new body at least once as month has got to have some kind of regenerative benefits. Hell, she could be older than me. Anyway, that's not what I meant."

A long silence stretched between them.

"What happened in Rhode Island, Abe? Kate refuses to tell me. She says it's your business."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Does it have anything to do with that old photograph you've been staring at all the time?"

"I _said_ that I don't want to-"

"Well, I _do_. You've been working at a _desk, _Abe."

The fish man's shoulders rose into an angry, defensive stance. His blue-green lips pressed together in a thin line.

"You've been moping around in your head and we need you _here_, with _us._ Talk to me, Abe. Please."

"I think I used to be a Victorian-era scientist," said Abe.

Liz could think of no other response but, "What?"

"That's what I was before. Before I was _this_," he examined his webbed hands with a measure of disgust.

"Abe, I-"

"I had a wife. When I did not come home after my 'accident', she threw herself into the sea and drowned. In Rhode Island I met her ghost. I couldn't bring myself to stay with her, because I wasn't the man she loved. Not anymore."

Liz's hand went to her mouth. There was nothing she could say.

"And now you know," finished Abe, shoulders sagging as if under a heavy weight.

Liz wordlessy put her arms around him and her head on his shoulder. They stood there in a melancholy, silent embrace for one minute, two, then turned back to the clearing, following the smell of roast rabbit, and took their places by the fire.

After dinner, Mutt picked shreds of rabbit from her teeth with a pocket knife. "So," she said, "Do you guys usually do stuff like this?"

"Stuff like what?" intoned Abe.

"You know. Monster hunting."

"Oh, yeah. Monster hunting. World saving," said Liz.

"The occasional exorcism," added Johann.

"And sometimes these things occur underwater," said Abe.

"Wow," said the lyncanthrope. She leaned forward eagerly. "That sounds like a pretty exciting line of work. You know, I'd heard of the Bureau before you all came to Oboroten. The old folks tell stories about it. Well, I'd heard of Hellboy, at least."

"Hellboy's a good guy," said Roger, looking into the fire and thrusting his stony jaw forward.

"So I've heard," said Mutt. She seemed to be waiting for someone to say something more, but everyone just kept staring into the fire. None of them had seen Hellboy since he had quit the B.P.R.D. after the Conqueror Worm mission. And none of them wanted to retell that particular story.

Mutt' face lost its eager look and returned to an expression of wary neutrality. "Well," she said. "You guys are probably tired after your trip. We better hit the hay so we'll be fresh for tomorrow." She curled up on her side with her back to fire and her knees drawn in almost to her nose. "Goodnight," she said quietly.

"Goodnight, Mutt," said Liz.

The agents rolled out their sleeping bags around the fire and settled into for the night.

Johann, as usual, kept watch. He had not required sleep since the death of his physical body. _Just like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz_, Liz had once said. He had the opposite problem of the straw man, however: all brains and no body. Lacking the need for sleep, he invariably took on the duty of watching over the others. Abe was lying with his back to the fire, only pretending to sleep. Roger slept the peaceful sleep of the innocent, Liz the dreamless sleep of the enlightened. The werewolf girl's limbs twitched in her sleep. What could she be dreaming of? Chasing rabbits? Dodging abuse? He could take a look, of course, but that wouldn't be polite.

_**Author's note:**_

_Hi. After ignoring for about… three years, the fandom bug hit and I decided to revive my old account. And I remembered this story. I finished it a while ago, but it's just been sitting on my hard drive ever since. So now I'm bringing it here._

_When I wrote this, I had not read The Universal Machine arc that makes it very obvious that Abe has _not_ let anyone know about his experience with the ghost of his long-dead wife. I had sort of assumed that he would have told Liz about it before then. So, yeah, this revelation is not canon, but I feel that's it in character._

_That was a nice, quiet little character development scene before the exciting action event next week. Do you like werewolves? Do you like yetis? Would you like to see a werewolf fight a yeti? Of course you would._


	4. Tooth and Claw

**4: Tooth and Claw**

In the morning Mutt awoke with the sun and set about brewing coffee and burying the bones from the previous night's dinner. She hummed softly to herself as she did so, as if attempting to soothe herself, squinting at the sunrise and keeping her hands busy and moving. She paid no attention to the still bodies around her until one addressed her.

"_Gutentag_," said Johann.

The girl jumped about a foot in the air and spun around, lips twisted in a snarl.

"I apologize. I seem to startle people quite often. You appear tense, yes?"

Mutt relaxed slightly and ran a trembling hand through her dirty hair. "Um. A little. We're getting really close. I can smell it."

"Are you afraid? Of this creature who killed your brethren?"

"Not afraid, really. Excited. I mean, kill or be killed, that's the way things work, right? Besides," she paused, laughed nervously, "This is my chance to be _useful_ for once."

"You want to be useful?" said Abe, rising from the ground. He looked wan and irritable, as if he hadn't slept well. "Then come on, Mutt. Let's find this thing."

* * *

The B.P.R.D. continued to follow the werewolf through the woods. She was obviously tightly wound, at times forgetting that she had a group of people following her and disappearing for minutes at a time before returning sheepishly to find them. The woods were obviously thinning as they climbed higher, the gaps between the trees growing progressively larger. They could see a barren mountain face about a half a mile ahead of them when Mutt froze. She stood stiff and trembling, like a dog scenting a pheasant. A low whine rose involuntarily from her throat.

Something horrible was loping through the sparse trees ahead of them. It stood about fifteen feet tall and resembled some sort of horrible, albino cross between a polar bear and a giant ape. It was completely covered in thick, shaggy white fur, so much so that its actual frame was hard to distinguish. It walked on two legs, but the huge, viciously clawed paws on the ends of its long, furry arms hung almost to the ground. The fur around its yellowed claws was stained pink with old thing turned and stared at them.

The monster's face was the only part of its body not covered in hair. Set into its pink skin were a wide, flat nose, far-set, beady red eyes, and a gaping slit of a mouth bristling with razor-sharp teeth.

"Sense anything, Johann?" asked Abe. He drew his gun and turned off the safety with a soft click.

The German shuddered. "There is… nothing. Just hunger. A terrible hunger."

Abe nodded, silently raised his gun, aimed, and fired. The retort of the shot echoed through the silent woods. A tiny spot of blood blossomed on the beast's white chest. Its slash of a mouth widened in rage, exposing rows upon rows of teeth.

"Damn fur," muttered Abe and fired off a few more rounds. The beast did not look particularly hurt. It just looked very, very angry. It turned and began to charge them, crashing through the smaller trees. It was slow, but quickly picking up momentum.

"It looks like snow. I bet it doesn't like fire," suggested Roger.

Liz raised her hands. Flames burst from nothing and engulfed her fists. "One yeti, extra crispy, coming right up," she said.

"No no no," yelped Mutt, shaking her shaggy head furiously. "Can't use fire here. It's been a dry summer, the whole forest would go up in flames. We just need to lure it out in the open."

"And how do you suggest we do _that_?" snapped Abe exasperatedly.

Her answer was a quick flash of movement and the sound of clothes tearing. "Oh," said Abe.

Mutt was nowhere to be seen. In her place, standing in the remains of her shredded clothes, was a large, rangy wolf creature. It looked as if a scruffy, oversized wolf had suddenly decided to walk on its hind legs. The creature stood close to nine feet tall with thick, unruly brown fur and glowing yellow eyes. The length of its dangling furry arms, ending in hand-like paws, suggested that it could lope on all fours if it wanted to. The creature had very poor posture, and stood in a distinct slouch.

Before anything could be said, the werewolf ran to meet the yeti's charge. As she drew closer to the beast, the initial impressiveness of Mutt's wolf form was marred by the fact that the white monster was still much, much larger than she was. She was a stray dog about to fight a polar bear. The kid didn't stand a chance.

The B.P.R.D. team watched imminent collision in horror. A hair-raising, whooping cackle rose from the yeti. It raised one great, terrible paw to strike…

And missed. The werewolf had run right past it. While the yeti was still trying to figure out what had just happened, the smaller creature turned and leaped agilely onto its back. She snarled and bit into the thick ruff of fur around the snow creature's neck.

The yeti wailed and swiped at the werewolf with an enormous clawed paw, knocking her clear of him. She crouched on the ground, frozen, tail trembling. The monster's claws had opened three enormous gashes in her lupine shoulder. Pale flashes of bone showed through the wound. Mutt coughed and spat out large hunks white fur.

The shaggy white creature paused for a moment. It looked at the wounded, antagonistic werewolf, then at the B.P.R.D. team. It turned back towards the easier meal and began to move towards the lycanthrope.

Mutt dropped to all fours and bolted with surprising speed in the opposite direction of the B.P.R.D., towards the edge of the treeline. The yeti roared and gave chase.

"She's just baiting it so that it will follow her to the slopes!" cried Liz, "Come on!" The pyrokinetic broke into a desperate run, Abe, Roger, and Johann following close behind.

A high-pitched, pained howl filtered through the trees.

"I think we should hurry," said Roger, "Mutt doesn't sound like she's doing too well."

When they finally burst through the trees onto the rolling, lichen-covered slope of the mountain, the werewolf was definitely the worse for wear. Outside of the trees, her agility was no longer much of an advantage, while the yeti now had plenty of room to utilize its brute strength and deadly claws. Blood matted parts of Mutt's dirty brown fur, and she visibly favored one leg as she attempted to dodge the monster's onslaught.

"Now, Liz!" yelled Abe.

"I can't! She's too close!" cried Liz in frustration, hands blazing.

"Sylvia!" called Johann, shooting a bolt of ectoplasmic light into the air to get the werewolf's attention, "If you can understand me, move out of the way!"

Mutt blinked her yeloow eyes. The yeti turned towards the B.P.R.D., squinting its beady red eyes at the source of the light and noise. While it's back was turned, the werewolf crawled, limping, behind a low-lying boulder and collapsed.

A familiar mantra began to play through Liz Sherman's head. _The fire is not my enemy… It is a part of me… It is mine. Mine. The fire is not my enemy…_ Streams of fire poured from her hand, surged through the air and engulfed the yeti.

The monster shrieked as its fur blazed like dry kindling. It ran in faltering circles, flailing its long arms futilely, before collapsing in a charred heap on the ground. The acrid smell of burning hair and flesh drifted through the air. After a while, the fire died out. There was nothing left to burn.

The four agents walked over to the remains of the creature. Roger poked it experimentally with a toe, and the entire thing crumbled to ash. They stared at the smoking heap in awed silence.

"Shit," said Liz suddenly, "Mutt." She scrambled up the slope in the direction of the rock where the werewolf had last been seen. "Mutt," she called, "Mutt! Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

A familiar, sallow face peeked painfully over the top of the boulder, sporting a scabbed-over split lip and the fading remains of an enormous black eye.

"Excuse me," said Mutt, "Could someone please hand me a spare change of clothes?"

_**Author's note:**__ I tend to think of werewolves as turning completely into a wolf, not a wolf-man. Trying to keep somewhat in line with The Wolves of St. August arc, though, the Oboroten werewolves have the classic pulp horror form._

_Next week is the last chapter! Yay! Or boo! Whichever you prefer._


	5. Cutting Ties

**5: Cutting Ties**

It turned out that shapeshifters heal quickly. When Abe had cleaned and bandaged her shoulder, he was surprised to find that the muscle structure had already begun to knit itself back together. The more superficial wounds had already healed and faded, leaving nothing but smears of old blood behind.

"Shifting's regenerative," explained Mutt, digging through the yeti's ashes, "By tomorrow I'll be fine." She found a few sickle-shaped claws and razor teeth, dusted off the charred hair, and put them in her backpack.

By the time they reached town, the only signs of the girl's injuries were her bandaged arm and a slight limp. Liz was surprised to see that a crowd of about a hundred people was gathered loosely around the steps of the post office and the general store, watching their progress down the dirt road intently. She hadn't thought that there were that many people living in the area. The scene stuck her as somewhat menacing. The solemn faces of the townspeople reminded her more of a tribunal than a welcoming committee.

A buzzed blonde head popped from the crowd and ran stumbling down the road to meet them. It was Phil, there driver.

"Man, am I happy to see you guys," he gasped, "What took you so long?"

Abe looked at him questioningly. "What's the matter? We told you we were going to scout the woods for a night. You said you'd be fine sleeping in the van."

Phil looked nervously over his shoulder and hissed under his breath, "Yeah, but you didn't tell me how how goddamn _scary_ these people are." He shook his head disbelievingly once or twice before falling into step, strategically, behind Roger's formidable bulk.

When they reached the steps, John Vilkolakis stepped down in front of them.

"So?" he asked expectantly. Mutt slunk forwards.

"It was an abominable snowman," mumbled the girl, "We killed it." She studiously avoided the town leader's gaze, addressing his right foot rather than his face.

"You got proof?" sneered Vilkolakis.

"Yeah…" said Mutt. She rummaged sulkily through her backpack and pulled out a handful of teeth and claws.

"Give it here, Mutt," said the man. The girl looked at him, then at the trophy in her hands. Her mouth drew into a long, thin line.

"No," she said, somewhat uncertainly. The scattered onlookers turned and stared.

"What?" growled Vilkolakis.

"No," said Mutt with more confidence, closing her small sallow fingers around her prize and snatching it away. Her bushy eyebrows drew together like angry storm clouds. "This is _mine_. _I _fought the yeti, _I_ avenged the boys, _I _almost died while all of you were hiding out at home all night." She glowered at him.

Vilkolakis drew back from her, obviously shocked at her outburst. At the same time, he looked at the yeti remains longingly. Trophies of that sort were obviously highly valued.

"Listen, Muttsy," he said, breaking into a large, false grin, "All right, you did a good job. How about I let you have the teeth, eh? I'll take the claws."

Mutt thought it over. She tapped her ragged, dirty fingernails against her font teeth. Something suddenly dawned across her face, brightening her saturnine features. She gave him a slow, sly smile that showed all of her sharp, stained teeth.

"I'll give you all of it, if you give me your old truck."

Vilkolakis turned red and sputtered. "My old truck? What do you need a truck for, girl?"

Mutt steepled her fingers in front of her, still grinning like a maniac let loose from an insane asylum. "I'm leaving. I need something to hook up my trailer to."

Vilkolakis laughed derisively. "You're leaving? Where the hell you think you're gonna go? Outside this town ain't nothing but humans. They're not like us, Mutt. They'll hate you for what you are."

"Well, they can't treat me much worse than the _fine_ folks of Oboroten, cane they?" Mutt nearly shouted the last sentence. The townsfolk lining the side of the road shifted in place and looked uncomfortable. "Besides," her grin widened, threatening to split her sallow face in two, "I'm half human, anyway. Or did you forget?"

Vilkolakis stalked back and forth across the road in frustration. "I'm not giving you the truck."

Mutt shrugged. "Then I'll walk. And I guess I'll be taking these lovely yeti bones with me…" She rattled the ivory pieces in her hand.

Vilkolakis growled to himself and tugged furiously at his beard. "Fine. Take the truck and go. It's not like we need you around." He held out his calloused hand and Mutt tipped the claws and teeth into it. In return, he rummaged through his pockets, found a filthy key and tossed it to her.

The girl clasped the key to her chest the way a drowning person grabs onto a life preserver after miles and miles of empty ocean.

Mutt still slouched, but otherwise she looked as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her narrow shoulders. She slammed the door of the ancient trailer shut and latched it before hopping into the driver's seat of the battered, rusting pick-up truck. She revved the engine and popped a tape into the dashboard, prompting a loud rock song with a vaguely familiar thumping bass line to burst from the crackling sound system.

"Can I bum a cigarette? I could really use one." she said to Liz, leaning out of the truck's window, which was stuck halfway between open and closed. The pyrokinetic smiled and gave her a cigarette, lighting it with a flash of her fingers. Mutt clenched it between her strong teeth and revved the engine again. It coughed and sputtered, then purred smoothly.

"Where will you go?" asked Johann.

The girl grinned. "Everywhere. Anywhere. Maybe I'll try to go to school, get an education or something. Maybe I'll go see the world. As long as I'm out of _here_," she held her cigarette between her fingers for a moment to spit on the ground, "I'll manage somehow."

Roger fumbled in the pockets of his vest and drew out a stained, dog-eared business card. "Send me a postcard?" he suggested, pressing it into her hands. Mutt shoved the card deep into the pockets of her jeans.

"Sure thing," she said.

"The B.P.R.D. appreciates the help you provided," said Abe stiffly.

She shifted gears and began to inch the truck gently forward, then paused and looked out the window again, directly at Abe.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for," she said, and let the engine pull the truck away.

They could see her hand waving out of the window of the truck until it disappeared over a muddy hill. She was headed south.

"So?" said Liz, lighting another cigarette, "Who wants to write the official report?"

* * *

_**Author's note: **__Ah, it feels very satisfying to wrap that up. I hope you enjoyed it._

_I got rather attached to the character of Mutt. She's sort of like a female werewolf Walter Kovacs. (Yay, Watchmen reference!) I didn't want to leave her to rot in Oberoton, but I didn't want to go the cliché route of "…and then she joins the B.P.R.D.!" So instead she gets to ride of into the sunset with her rickety white trash trailer. Hurrah!_

_My goal with this story was to write a tale in the style a BPRD one-shot comic that focuses on a particular community or character and then moves on. I also wanted to try my hand at inserting original characters into an existing continuity in a way that doesn't seem false or Sue-ish. I doubt I'll write another Mutt story, but maybe one of her postcards will show up somewhere in the future._

_It took me a long time to finish posting this. Thanks for bearing with me and for all of your kind comments._


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